


Truth or Dare

by sapphose



Series: The Game Is Afoot [3]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, Truth or Dare, just the two of them flirting in their own unique way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26094157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphose/pseuds/sapphose
Summary: Julian introduces Garak to the human game "truth or dare."
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Series: The Game Is Afoot [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838269
Comments: 19
Kudos: 128





	Truth or Dare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plain_and_simple_tailor (ectogeo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ectogeo/gifts).



> Enormous thanks to plain_and_simple_tailor (ectogeo) for all of their fabulous thoughts, as well as Simply_Dandy for their suggestion. I hope I’ve done your ideas justice!

“You say this game is primarily played by children and adolescents?”

Julian nodded in the affirmative, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

Garak had realized by this point that Julian was not inventing the games. It would require more creativity and commitment as a liar than he had shown thus far.

That left Garak with an increasingly abysmal view of the human race.

“I can’t speak for you, Doctor, but I am a grown adult,” he said.

“Since you won’t let me run a full physical, Garak, I’ll have to take your word for it.”

It was clear that Julian had made an effort in anticipation of having Garak over. The lights were dim, the temperature was pleasantly warm, and there had been a glass of kanar in a nearly acceptable vintage.

Garak was unaccustomed to this feeling, that someone cared enough to try and make him comfortable.

Julian showed his affection by taking care of people. Garak showed it by arguing.

“You had me in the infirmary for days, if I recall correctly. Any failure to run sufficient medical scans is purely your own fault,” Garak admonished.

They were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, Julian with one leg drawn up beneath him so he could properly face Garak. Garak, for his part, was enjoying the view. He could not seem to get his fill of looking at Julian.

“I suppose the fact that I was trying to save your life at the time doesn’t excuse the oversight.”

“It certainly does not.” Garak took a moment to savor Julian’s fond smile before continuing. “Nothing excuses how many of your culture’s games are fixated on telling the truth. It wasn’t as if I was expecting kotra, but is this really something humans do for fun?”

Julian didn’t take the bait.

“Are you going to play, or not?” he asked instead of answering.

“I reserve the right to express my honest opinion about it.” Garak couldn’t resist the jab. “You did ask me to be more honest, if I recall correctly.”

The look Julian gave might have been an attempt at seriousness, but it was betrayed by the playful glint in his eyes.

“Truth or dare, Garak?”

There was only one possible answer to this.

“Truth, my dear Doctor.”

Garak was gratified by Julian’s startled expression. It wouldn’t do to become too predictable.

“Is your first name Elim?”

The last person to call Garak ‘Elim’ had been Enabran Tain, and that left little doubt as to the source of Julian’s information. Unfortunately characteristic of the man, to find ways to needle Garak even in death.

“It is one of the names I have been known by, yes,” Garak obfuscated. It would be equally true to say that his name was ‘Tailor’ (if you asked Dukat) or ‘Mister’ (if you asked Julian when they had first met).

“You mean like a code name?” Julian clarified eagerly.

“I believe the rule was one question at a time.” Garak drew mystery around himself, a coat against the cold. “Truth or dare, Doctor.”

Julian puffed out his chest slightly.

“Dare.”

Garak glanced around the room, seeking inspiration. If his preening was anything to go by, Julian wanted to use this as an opportunity to impress. Garak would hate to disappoint.

“May I use your replicator?”

“Go right ahead.”

Garak swept across the room to the far wall, feeling Julian’s gaze follow him. Tantalizing possibilities danced in his mind. He could order up a suit for Julian to wear; replicated clothing was never as good the real thing, but Garak had several designs in mind that would be much more flattering for the good doctor’s lithe form than the Starfleet uniform. He could take advantage of Julian’s limited Cardassian have him read aloud from a scandalous novel like _Drought Bloom_.

Such fantasies were entertaining, but it was too early for Garak to make such a bold move. Instead, he typed in the command and watched a rippled blue glass full of clear liquid materialize in a haze.

Back at the couch, Julian took the container but eyed it suspiciously.

“What is it?”

Garak chuckled.

“Rest assured, it is not poisonous. To Cardassians, it’s quite a delicacy.” That was a lie; it was as commonplace as red leaf tea and rokassa juice. But the doctor always liked a touch of glamour.

Julian lifted it closer to his face, sniffed, and wrinkled his nose.

“Are you sure it’s safe for human consumption?”

“Positive! I would never do anything to harm you, Doctor.” It would have been more true to say, _if I wished to harm you, I wouldn’t use a game of ‘truth or dare’ to do so_.

Julian emanated skepticism the way that a cloaked Romulan ship radiated tachyon emissions, but he pinched his nose with one hand and took a small, tentative sip.

“Blech!” His mouth twisted sharply and a small shudder spasmed in his shoulders, but the liquid went down and stayed down. “Oh, that was awful, Garak! What _was_ that?”

“ _Kasikil_.”

“Fish juice?”

“Goodness, is that how it translates?” Garak feigned surprise. “It sounds much nicer in Cardassian.”

Julian coughed petulantly and placed the glass on the floor. Garak suppressed a snide remark. These were, after all, Julian’s quarters, and it was his right to make a mess.

“I can’t believe you made me drink fish juice!”

Perhaps Garak should have indulged Julian and engineered an opportunity for him to show off. Then again, where would have been the fun in that?

“Have I misunderstood the point of a dare?”

“No, it’s just- ugh.” Julian made another delightfully displeased face. “That was awful, is it really a delicacy?”

“As a man who puts yamok sauce on Gramilian sand peas, you’re hardly one to talk.”

Julian was sufficiently recovered to wag his finger at Garak.

“Careful, or I’ll make you eat that on a dare.”

Garak crossed his legs, a deliberately unruffled display.

“I’ll simply have to opt to only tell the truth.”

Julian’s grin glowed in the dusky light.

“I’d like to see that. Truth or dare?”

“Truth, naturally. I’m not desperate enough to eat sand peas yet.” Garak had no intention of consuming a food named after dirt that had been brought to the station only to serve Quark’s insatiable greed.

“Yet?” Julian lifted his eyebrows teasingly.

“Ever,” Garak amended. “Something unpleasant may happen to you if you attempt it, in fact.”

“Oh? Do you have a weapon on you?”

Something electric sparked inside Garak when Julian leaned towards him. It made him think of how easily he could close the gap between their bodies, and feel that deliciously smooth human skin against his own. Not just a brush of the hands as they exchanged datarods or desserts, but a blaze that acted on every unspoken promise in their flirtatious relationship.

“What a fanciful imagination you have, Doctor.”

“That’s not an answer. You agreed to tell the truth.”

“Yes,” Garak conceded, although he didn’t feel particularly bound by said promise.

“Yes, you agreed to tell the truth, or yes, you have a weapon on you?”

In fact, Garak did not, but he suspected that revelation would disappoint Julian.

“The latter,” he lied.

“I knew it!” Julian clapped his hands together victoriously. Garak had never found childishness charming before, but there was something about Julian that made it so. Perhaps it was the simple fact that he didn’t dismiss joy as the realm of children.

“A tailor always has his sewing tools on him.”

“Sewing supplies aren’t weapons, Garak.”

One would think that a man who took down enemies with a champagne cork in the holosuites could better understand that, with sufficient initiative, anything could be made dangerous.

“They are if you use them right. Truth or dare?”

Julian rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“If I say dare, are you going to feed me something even worse?”

“That would be telling. If you’re too scared to accept a dare, there’s no shame in admitting it.”

“I’m not scared,” Julian laughed. “I’m just trying to survive the evening.”

A new pressure, at Garak’s ankle. He did not need to look down to know that Julian’s toe was teasing at the cuff of his pant leg. Garak infused his voice with the heat of that touch.

“It’s my dearest wish that you do.”

The foot retracted. Julian’s smile was sly and self-congratulatory; he had apparently found some sort of answer he was looking for in Garak’s behavior.

Garak felt oddly as if he had given something away without intending to. He was not accustomed to the sensation, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

“I don’t trust you anymore. Truth,” Julian decided.

“I hope you appreciate the contradiction in that statement.” Garak decided to stall while he planned his counterstrike. “Why did you become a doctor?”

“Honestly?” Julian smirked. “It depends on who’s asking.”

“Why, my dear Doctor, are you acknowledging the subjective nature of truth?”

“If it makes you feel better to call it that.”

Garak was intrigued. Thus far, Julian had maintained a very binary view on the subject, and maintained skepticism whenever Garak attempted to explain his point of view.

“Well, now I insist you tell me every version of the story.”

“All right, but you asked for it.” Julian drew his other leg up on the sofa and folded them beneath him. “First version- I did my first surgery on my teddy bear, Kukalaka, when I was five years old, and that inspired me to a lifetime in medicine.”

“I think I’ve heard that one before.”

“Two,” Julian continued, ignoring Garak. “When I was young, I was afraid of doctors. I thought they knew more than anyone else, that they could even make me sick if I misbehaved. Initially, I wanted to become one so I could have that power. Later, I realized that what I really wanted was to help people.”

“Charming.” Garak wasn’t moved by the insipid ending, but Julian’s fear of physicians bore further study. Was it the result of some sort of early adverse experience?

“Third, I watched a girl die when my father and I were caught in an ion storm on Invernia II. It was only later that we found out she could have been saved, by a plant that was growing only a few meters away. I knew I didn’t want to watch someone suffer like that again.”

The difference between this and the prior two stories was stark. Despite any self-pitying claims to the contrary, Garak felt confident assuming that most Federation citizens led privileged lives of abundance. He wouldn’t have expected Julian to have had a brush with death at such a young age, or to be so strongly affected by it.

“Last one,” Julian concluded, and paused for dramatic effect. “Professional tennis wasn’t an option.”

Far more interesting than Garak had expected from such a mundane question. He hoped it signaled that there would always be more depths of Julian to discover and explore. He did enjoy a challenge.

“I’m proud of you. You’re already quite the accomplished liar.”

He had meant it as praise, but Julian did not appear flattered.

“I’m not lying. They’re all true.”

 _Especially the lies_.

“I’m sure they are, Doctor.”

Julian picked at a fingernail, frowning.

“Your turn. Truth or dare?”

His mood had taken a sudden but undeniable downswing. Garak thought quickly. What would make Julian smile? This was not the atmosphere that Garak had been hoping to take a dare in- he had been holding out hope for a more romantic turn- but concessions would have to be made.

“Dare. I suppose it’s only fair that I try it at least once.”

Julian watched him seriously.

“You said you have your sewing kit on you?”

Garak bowed his head.

“Where would a tailor be without it?”

“Alright then. I dare you to sew an outfit for Kukalaka.” Julian crossed his arms and had the audacity to look smug. Had he been planning this all along?

Smug was better than despondent. Still, the request was unfortunate when one considered that Garak did not, in fact, have a tailoring tool to speak of. There had been no need for them in his plan for the evening.

“I don’t have any fabric,” he demurred. Julian was not so easily dissuaded.

“You could replicate some.”

Really, it was as if the doctor said these things just to start an argument. (Garak could only hope.)

“And you could be replaced by a hologram. There is something to be said for the real thing.”

“You could use one of my shirts. I’m sure there’s one in there you’ve been just dying to rip up.”

Garak did not condescend to respond with innuendo. Professional pride was at stake now.

“I wouldn’t want to subject the poor creature to your atrocious taste in clothes.”

“Or you could just admit you can’t do it.”

“Are you trying to manipulate me?”

A protege of Enabran Tain was not going to be manipulated by a pretty Starfleet officer, even one who batted long eyelashes over brilliant hazel eyes. Garak was not so easily swayed.

“Is it working?”

Of course it was working, that was the most infuriating part.

“Give me the bear.”

“With pleasure.” Now smiling brightly, Julian made his way over to a shelf stacked with PADDs, a glass plaque that appeared to be some kind of award, and one shabby brown toy. The last he presented proudly to Garak.

Garak considered the item. It had clearly been patched together many times over, although the most recent repairs showed evidence of a steady, practiced hand. That made sense. Even if modern surgeons didn’t typically use traditional sutures, Julian was sure to have skillful fingers.

That was a thought that merited further exploration at a later date.

Kukalaka was in dire need of stuffed animal medical attention, but Julian hadn’t asked Garak to reinforce the threadbare patches or secure the eye that seemed in danger of falling out. He had asked for an outfit, and an outfit he was going to get.

“I’ll replicate the materials,” Garak grumbled, acquiescing to necessity. Karemman fleece would be good, he decided as he made his way back to the replicator. It was soft enough that Julian would feel comfortable holding the bear close to his face, or his chest if he slept without pajamas. (Another dangerous train of thought that would have to be tabled for later.)

“We’re still going to play, you realize,” Julian called from the couch. Garak affected a sigh.

“I have resigned myself to it.”

“Good.”

He replicated a suitable length of the fleece, as well as some old-fashioned needle and thread. It felt wrong somehow, to use modern methods on a creature who had been lovingly repaired by hand so many times.

“Truth or dare?” Garak asked absent-mindedly as he settled in to work. If he was going to do this right, it would mean sacrificing his chance to watch Julian, but he would sacrifice more than that if it meant making Julian happy.

“Dare.”

“How brave.” Garak didn’t have a pattern to go off, and he was estimating measurements by eye and feel. At least the bear was small and simply made.

“I am. I invited you back to my quarters with nary a phaser to protect me,” Julian teased.

Garak wrapped a corner of the fabric around the bear’s middle. Some kind of tunic would be simplest, if he was going to have the article finished before leaving Julian’s quarters.

“I make no promises about your wardrobe, but the rest of you is safe with me.”

“Somehow I doubt your sewing kit is the only dangerous thing you have at your disposal.”

It really was unfair that Julian should be in such fine flirtatious form when Garak now had another task demanding attention.

Inspiration struck. He took scissors to fleece with wicked glee.

“Since I can’t seem to convince you, Doctor, I dare you to find these weapons I supposedly have secreted about my person.”

“Come again?”

“I dare you to search me,” Garak rephrased simply. “See if you can find a weapon.”

“Okay. Yes. Um. I can do that.”

Garak allowed himself an upward glance, and reveled in Julian’s blush.

“I have every confidence.”

“It won’t get you out of making the outfit for Kukalaka, you know,” Julian warned.

“I can multitask.”

Between the two of them, in a contest of who would break first, Garak had no doubt that he would emerge the victor.

Julian stood in front of Garak and looked him up and down awkwardly. Garak didn’t allow himself to preen as obviously as Julian had done, but sat a little straighter all the same.

“Right. Well. Here I go.”

Garak smiled, and he knew the result must look positively predatory. He wasn’t sure if ‘truth or dare’ was a game that had winners and losers, but if it were, this must be what winning felt like.

Julian started with the shoulders. A ridiculous place to begin in a hunt for hidden weapons, but just right for getting a Cardassian hot and bothered. It was not ideal when said Cardassian was attempting the delicate manipulation of a sharp object, but Garak had made his bed and he was going to lie in it. (If only!)

“You’re the one with shoulder pads, not I,” Garak felt compelled to point out. “I could hardly be hiding a phaser in my shirtsleeves.”

“Not your style, is it?” Julian trailed his hands down Garak’s arms, following the path of the ridges that began at his neck.

“Hardly. Watch your hands, Doctor. I wouldn’t want to accidentally stab Kukalaka.”

Julian obliged, sliding fingers back up and then trailing them at the collar of Garak’s shirt.

“Now if I were you, where would I hide something?” he mused aloud.

Garak could think of several lewd replies to that, but said nothing. Instead, he focused on stitching two edges together, not allowing his body to respond as Julian’s touch slipped to his chest. He couldn’t feel the skin directly, too many layers and thermal undergarments in between, but he imagined he could still sense the warmth radiating from where the doctor’s hands applied pressure.

“You aren’t very good at this, are you?” Garak murmured.

Julian was fast approaching Garak’s midsection, and dropped to his knees to facilitate the process. When Garak looked up from the bear, he saw that he was directly at eye level with Julian’s mouth.

“I haven’t finished yet,” the mouth retorted. “Aren’t you always telling me to be patient?”

Julian had apparently taken the lesson to heart. His hands moved slowly, deliberately, almost massaging.

Garak wouldn’t mind if Julian never finished. He was willing to play ‘truth or dare’ forever if they could stay like this.

If the seam weren’t straight, he would blame the replicator.

Julian’s touch lingered for a moment at the waistband of Garak’s pants, then moved on before Garak could decide whether or not to follow through on the wild urges that brought to mind.

He was determined not to falter first, but Julian was not making it easy.

“Found anything yet?” Garak inquired, banishing any shake from his voice.

“I’ll let you know when I do.”

Garak had never before tried to sew with sultry fingers squeezing their way down his thigh. He was no longer thinking about his actions, relying on muscle memory to complete the task as his brain reassigned itself to memorizing and cataloging each thrilling sensation.

“It’s your turn to ask me, isn’t it?”

“Don’t you want me to wait until you’re done?”

Julian was well onto Garak’s calves.

“I will be in a moment.”

“So will I.” Julian’s fingers probed into Garak’s shoes. “I once played a holoprogram where a man hid a bomb in his sock.”

“Fascinating,” Garak breathed. He had never considered the feet a sensual area before, and had never been so happy to have an oversight corrected.

There was only one action left for him to take. He wiggled Kukalaka’s arms through narrow sleeves as Julian rocked back onto his heels, looking exceptionally satisfied.

“Fine, no weapons. You win this one. But I’ve got a dare for you.”

Garak held out the article in his hands.

“I’ve got a coat for your bear.”

“Oh!” Julian took it back immediately, eyes and mouth wide with elation. “Garak, it’s adorable!”

Garak could not remember a time in his entire life when someone had ever used that word in connection to him. He may have uttered it once or twice himself, but only in haughty condescension, and never sincerely. Certainly, he would never have wanted to be on the receiving end of it.

Now, his whole body hummed with quiet pleasure.

“I’m glad you like it, my dear,” he said softly.

Julian looked from the bear up to Garak.

“Are you ready for the dare?”

“As I’ll ever be.” What would it be this time? The sand peas after all? A hat to match the jacket?

“I dare you to kiss me.”

“With pleasure,” Garak said truthfully, and proceeded to do so, with abandon and aplomb.

Cardassia, he thought, could stand to adopt one or two of these Earth games.

**Author's Note:**

> Credit where credit is due! Simply_Dandy suggested asking about whether or not "Elim" was really Garak's name. Plain_and_simple_tailor (ectogeo) suggested everything else except for why Julian became a doctor. This fic quite literally would not exist without them!
> 
> (The fictional novel title "Drought Bloom" is a reference to the condition invented in Xenobotanist's "Imprisoned.)


End file.
